


Wash the fears away

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: The panic is palpable. It's overwhelming. Aziraphale can't stand to look at bathtubs anymore.





	Wash the fears away

Baths were, as a general rule, opulently decadent affairs. At least, they were in the way that Aziraphale approached them. The invention of such frivolities as bath bombs and scented bubbles and oils had completely transformed the angel’s view of what had once been a practice humans used strictly in order to get clean. They were now acts of luxurious relaxation. One would think that such hedonism would be decidedly unbecoming of an angel, but really, Aziraphale had never really been a typical angel.

His collection of bath “necessities” was large enough to rival all _just-trying-to-decompress-after-a-hard-day-at-the-office_ collections out there. Perhaps even combined. He had every colour of the rainbow (and every one in between) in fizzy bath bombs and powdery additives, every fragrance that had ever been considered relaxing or invigorating at any point in history in the form of bubbles and oils, and of course, _la piece de resistance_ , an enormous and very comfortable claw-footed tub. Baths were, aside from books, food, and _maybe_ walks with Crowley, some of his favourite pastimes. Why then, did he find himself looking at his bathtub with nothing short of abject horror now?

Well, he knew _exactly_ why. But admitting to _that_  would be admitting that it had happened at all, that if they’d been even a little later in figuring out the prophecy, in committing to the ruse, that he would have _lost_ his best friend, his _only_ friend forever. To a bathtub. A bathtub that rather looked like this one, now he thought about it. He shivered, trying and failing spectacularly at convincing his feet to shuffle themselves even a centimetre closer. He was _not_ going to succumb to this gut-wrenching fear. He was _not_ going to let _them_ win by ruining something he so loved. Aziraphale was long overdue for a nice, relaxing bath, and with the Almighty as his witness, he was _going_ to take one.

He got as far as selecting one of his most decadent and soothing bath bombs, a pink and aqua coloured affair that smelled of peppermint and eucalyptus and turning on the water before he lost track of, well, everything. His mind went absolutely and utterly dark. The next thing he knew, he was across the flat and in the kitchen, sitting on the cool tiles with his knees pulled tightly to his chest, face pressed tightly in between them, breathing as though he very suddenly needed to in order to live but very suddenly _couldn’t_. Every time he attempted to look up and out into the room, it swam dizzyingly in front of him, so there he remained, his world confined to the cocoon his knees formed for him. He was content to keep it that way anyway – he didn’t trust that his legs would agree to support him should he try to stand.

He was so preoccupied on breathing and not looking up that he did not notice the sound of someone letting themselves into his flat, quiet footfalls preceding the only person who ever came to visit into the kitchen. ‘Angel, you weren’t down in the shop, so I figured you were – angel?’

Aziraphale could hear hurried footsteps before Crowley was kneeling next to him, hands worriedly caressing his soft curls, trying to quietly coax him to look up. Aziraphale did try, briefly, catching sight of a very worried expression on Crowley’s face, sunglasses notably absent, before the dizzying nature of everything around the room threatened to send up and fully evacuate the contents of his stomach and he looked back down.

‘Angel what’s going on?’ Crowley paused, going very still, ears perking up. ‘Is there water running?’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale mumbled into his knees, rather proud of his mouth for cooperating so much. ‘I was drawing a bath.’

‘Ok, stay here for a second and I’ll go take care of that,’ he felt Crowley start to get back to his feet. ‘Don’t move, angel. I’ll be right back.’

‘No!’ Aziraphale reached out, fingers closing around Crowley’s wrist, freezing him in a crouch next to him. He felt the heart he had largely gone about ignoring during his time on Earth begin to beat irregularly quickly at the very thought of Crowley getting anywhere near that bathtub. He couldn’t see him near water, water in _there_ after… after all that had happened.

‘Angel, you’re going to flood your bookstore if I don’t go turn the water off,’ Crowley said quietly. ‘I’m not letting any of your books get hurt because you’re deliriously ill or something. You’d never forgive me.’

‘You can’t,’ Aziraphale risked the dizziness to look up seriously at the demon, pleading with his eyes to just _focus_ for a minute so he could get the rest of his useless corporation to follow suit.

‘Angel, it’s a faucet, not a bomb. I think I can wrap my head around how it works,’ Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to break anything.’

‘You can’t,’ Aziraphale repeated, using Crowley to help himself clamber to his feet, swaying unsteadily as his blood rushed back into his legs. He felt Crowley rise up next to him and reach out worriedly to steady him. ‘I can’t lose you.’

‘I’m not leaving, I’m just turning off the water,’ Crowley was visibly and audibly confused. After a minute of Aziraphale simply shaking his head and gripping him tighter, Crowley sighed, then shrugged, then snapped his fingers. Aziraphale heard the constant sound of water stop suddenly. ‘Ok, that’s taken care of, let’s get you sorted, hm?’

Marginally calmer now that Crowley wasn’t actively trying to walk into a near-perfect replica of the death trap designed for him, Aziraphale allowed himself to be herded over to the sofa. Crowley sat him down and looked at him seriously. ‘What’s going on, angel? Are you ill?’

‘Angels can’t get ill,’ Aziraphale reminded him quietly. He tugged on Crowley’s arm, pulling him onto the seat next to him, fingers digging in very near painfully into the demon’s skin.

‘Then what’s going on? Something’s obviously very, very wrong,’ Crowley said nothing of the firm grip around his arm, instead relaxing it, allowing the angel to tug it subconsciously to his chest, as though he were holding on for dear life. ‘Were you drawing the bath to feel better or get your mind off something? I’ve never seen you like this before, angel, it’s honestly scary.’

That was the honest truth. Crowley had seen Aziraphale worry that he had done the wrong thing in gifting Adam and Eve with his flaming sword while he escorted them out of the Garden. He had seen the angel quite calmly almost lose his head during the French revolution over _pastry_. He had even seen the angel think he’d lost some of his most prized books in a Nazi church bombing, and had then seen him _actually_ lose all his precious books hours before what was almost the end of everything. He had seen Aziraphale at some of his lowest possible points in their long existences on Earth, but Crowley had never seen the angel like _this_.

‘I’m sorry,’ Aziraphale breathed out, looking marginally calmer, if Crowley could call the wild-eyed and – was the angel crying? – if Crowley could call any of _this_ calm.

Crowley did not know what to do other than simply sit there next to the angel and let him try and calm himself down. He had a fair understanding of what was going on – he had seen humans undergo panic attacks around him over the years, most notably during a certain flood he _still_ hadn’t seen fit to forgive the Almighty for. But Crowley had no idea what had triggered it; he didn’t want to accidentally set Aziraphale off in an even worse way by saying or doing something wrong, so he simply remained silent, letting the angel clutch at him.

Eventually, the angel’s breathing evened and Crowley chanced a look at him. There were tear stains down his paled cheeks and his eyes were red, but they no longer held the sheer panic they had when Crowley had first laid his own eyes on them. He smiled. ‘You want to talk about it, angel?’

Aziraphale sighed heavily. ‘It’s absolutely stupid. You’ll laugh at me.’

‘Angel, never,’ Crowley’s voice was soft and soothing. ‘Something’s obviously freaked you out. What the heaven could make you so upset?’

‘I was just going to take a nice, relaxing bath after a long day of trying to dissuade customers from lingering in the shop,’ Aziraphale’s voice was barely above a hoarse whisper. ‘But the tub just looked so… I just, I couldn’t get you out of my head.’

Crowley felt as though he had been stabbed through the heart with a particularly jagged implement at that. ‘ _I’m_ the reason you’re so upset? What did I do angel? Can I fix it?’

The angel shook his head, his eyes heavy with deep sadness. ‘It’s not you, Crowley dear, well, it is, but it’s just… I came so close to losing you. If we hadn’t figured out what Agnes Nutter’s prophecy meant… You would have been destroyed in a bathtub in hell. In a tub that looks remarkably like mine.’

Crowley was briefly relieved to hear that he hadn’t inadvertently done something awful to affect him before he was shocked into stillness. He himself had felt the gravity of the situation when he was confronted by the pillar of hellfire while wearing Aziraphale’s body, but he hadn’t known the whole rather fortunate series of events had affected the angel so deeply. He reached out and pulled the angel into a tight hug, as though he could squeeze all of the negativity straight out of him.

‘I know I sound so stupid,’ Aziraphale mumbled, turning his face into Crowley’s chest, drinking in the comforting warmth and scent of him, reassuring himself that he was here, alive, that he was _safe_.

‘ _No_ , angel. You don’t. You had to venture down into hell, and trust me, I _know_ that place is no picnic in the park,’ Crowley pulled the angel closer, tucking him under his chin. ‘And then you had to deal with knowing that if we hadn’t swapped places, you’d be a smoking pile of ash.’

‘Oh goodness, I hadn’t even _thought_ about that! I could have died too!’ Aziraphale pulled away looking horrified. He let out a nervous chuckle after a minute. ‘Well, that’s comforting, knowing I wouldn’t have had to deal with living the rest of my life without you.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Crowley frowned, piecing all this together. ‘You were _that_ upset about the idea of _my_ dying? Of… of losing _me_?’

Aziraphale’s gaze softened. ‘Of course, my dear. I really do love you, you know. I have no idea how I’d ever survive without you in my life. I suppose… I suppose I just can’t… I can’t stop _worrying_ about what could have happened if we hadn’t switched. If we hadn’t… you would have died, been permanently and completely _destroyed_ in hell, all alone surrounded by jeering demons. I just can’t stop thinking about it! The bathtub was just too much.’

Crowley pulled him back to his chest, cooing softly into his hair. Aziraphale had started crying again, and Crowley was not exactly the most adept at dealing with these types of things. What he _was_ , however, was adept at understanding Aziraphale. He knew the angel was clever, and he knew how he could fix this. It would take some gentle coaxing, but he could get him through this.

‘Angel, we’re going to take a bath,’ he said quietly into golden curls. ‘We’re going to fill the tub with lovely warm water, we’re going to pop in one of those fizzy things you won’t stop going on about, and we are both going to sit down for a nice soak. And we’re both going to be _fine_. It might even be nice.’

Aziraphale pulled away, looking up at him, surprise washing across his face. He swallowed. ‘I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.’

Crowley snorted. ‘No real response necessary. You just need to lead the way. We’ll take as much time as you need. No matter how long it takes, no matter what – I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you, angel. And no force from heaven nor hell is going to change that.’

Instead of getting to his feet, Aziraphale leaned closer to Crowley, pressing their lips gently, tentatively together. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not bathtubs, not holy water, not heaven or hell – the only thing in the whole universe that mattered now was the place where their lips met. Aziraphale had not felt this level of wonderment, of absolute _bliss_ , since the moment he had first laid foot in Eden and seen the beauty of the Almighty’s great creation for the first time. This kiss felt like seeing light for the first time, like feeling the warmth of the sun’s first rays on his skin, like feeling the smooth caress of the first breeze. It was _ineffable_.

Crowley pulled away first, smiling. ‘Is that your idea of a distraction tactic, angel? I’ll admit, it almost worked. That was…’

‘Amazing,’ Aziraphale breathed out. ‘No, not a distraction, more of a _thank you_.’

‘Then you can thank me any time you like,’ Crowley grinned. ‘So long as you thank me like _that_.’

‘That might start to get boring after a century or two.’

‘Angel, I don’t think I could ever get bored of you,’ Crowley told him seriously.

‘I was merely saying I might start getting a bit more creative,’ Aziraphale gave a soft chuckle. ‘But if you’re to be kept entertained so easily, well…’

‘As with anything, angel, you lead – you know I’ll follow. Anywhere you want to go. I’ll even give you a lift.’

‘All I ever want, all I’ll ever need is just to be here, like this, with you,’ Aziraphale settled himself back against Crowley, more comfortably than before. ‘I think… I think I’d like to give that bath a try. But… if I–’

‘Angel, I’m here with you,’ Crowley reminded him softly. ‘No matter what. If it’s too much, we stop. If it’s too fast, we slow down. Whatever you need.’

Aziraphale nodded and took a few moments to steady himself, using the comforting warmth of Crowley next to him as an anchor. Finally, he heaved a sigh and stood. ‘Whatever did I do to deserve you, dear?’

Crowley smiled and followed suit. ‘I ask myself that same question every day, angel. I don’t care what it was, either. I’ll do it again a thousand times to keep you mine.’

‘Moot point. It’s a bit irreversible now, I think,’ Aziraphale led the way to the bath, pausing in the doorway, the tub coming into his eye line. He swallowed.

‘I’m here, angel,’ Crowley reminded him gently. ‘No matter what. I’m here with you. Nothing’s ever going to keep me away. Not even Armageddon could do that, could it?’

‘No, I suppose it couldn’t,’ Aziraphale took a steadying breath and crossed the threshold, eyes glued to the bathtub. ‘Nothing so silly as a _bath_ will do it.’

‘Say it a few hundred times more and you might convince yourself,’ Crowley’s arms wound their way gently around the angel’s shoulders from behind. Crowley buried a kiss below Aziraphale’s ear. ‘You’re doing amazingly, angel. You’re the strongest being I’ve ever known.’

‘Flatterer,’ Aziraphale teased in order to distract himself as he began to draw the water, gulping down the lump that seemed to have so rudely formed in his throat. He watched the water rush down from the faucet and into the tub for a moment before sucking in a determined breath. ‘Ok. Alright. I can _do_ this.’

‘ _We_ can do this, angel,’ Crowley was already shrugging off his jacket. Before Aziraphale had even finished registering _that_ , he was already pulling his shirt over his head and starting on the fastens of his trousers. Aziraphale gulped, suddenly very nervous again, but this time for an altogether different reason.

‘I don’t think I’ve thought this through,’ he mumbled, looking away, feeling a hot flush spreading rapidly across his cheeks.

‘Angel,’ Crowley reached out with gentle hands, pulling him up by the chin to look at the soft, caring expression on his face. ‘You’ve seen me naked before. Remember the bathhouses in Rome?’

‘Yes, but, it’s different,’ Aziraphale frowned. ‘That was then. Now it’s… we’re…’

‘We’ve always been us, angel,’ Crowley pressed a tender kiss to a blushing forehead. ‘Well, at least to me. I fell in love the minute I heard you went and gave away your sword to a couple of humans because you thought they were having a bad day.’

‘All this time? Since _then_? And you’ve never said _anything_?’

‘You’ve said it yourself, angel, I go too fast for you,’ Crowley murmured. ‘But I can be patient. I have been. No matter how much time you need, I’ll happily let you have it.’ He watched Aziraphale toy with his bowtie for a minute and smiled, reaching out to untie it. ‘And I see you letting yourself get self-conscious. Let me guess, that prick Gabriel said something stupid to you? You’re _gorgeous_ inside and out, angel. I don’t give a damn how many cakes you’ve stuffed into you – you will never, ever stop being beautiful.’

‘I’m not going fast enough for me, Crowley,’ Aziraphale whispered, hands shaking at his buttons with pent up emotion. Fear was mixing with love, mixing with lust, mixing with a desire he thought might have been brewing deep within him, largely unknown for the greater part of six millennia, since the day he’d laid eyes on the fetching demon.

‘Then I’ll help,’ Crowley reached out, unbuttoning the waistcoat and shirt beneath it with smooth precision. ‘Beautiful,’ he whispered reverently, pushing the fabric aside, letting it slide down the angel’s shoulders, leaning in to press his lips firmly against his throat. ‘ _Scrumptious_.’

‘Crowley dear – ah – we’re not going to make it into the bath if you continue on like this. I’m not even making an effort and I’m – oh, you too?’ Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, surprised, when a firm _something_ pressed up against his thigh through the wool of his trousers.

‘Everything with you is effortless, angel,’ Crowley tossed aside the tops of Aziraphale’s outfit before starting on the trousers. ‘But we don’t need to do anything about it. Let’s just focus on one thing at a time, alright?’

Aziraphale gave a resolute nod and stepped out of his trousers, turning back to the bath. Everything else was immediately forgotten when his eyes fell on the white porcelain. He swallowed. ‘I feel so silly, being scared about a _bath_.’

‘Nothing silly about it at all, angel,’ Crowley rubbed his back soothingly. ‘You’ve been through a lot this past week. It’s a lot to contend with. Anyone else would have probably folded under it all, but not you – you’re strong and _stubborn,_ too – you’ll get through it all just fine.’

‘Thank you, Crowley, really. I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ Aziraphale stopped the water and grabbed the bath bomb, ready to drop it into the tub and just get on with the whole thing already. He hated the fear, the tightness in his chest that gripped at him as he looked at the tub, remembered the jeers and taunts directed at Crowley, _his_ Crowley, as if he were nothing, as if they were glad to see him destroyed. He set his jaw. He was not going to let those b… _bad demons_ ruin baths for him. He was not going to let them ruin _this_ bath, with Crowley, for him. He dropped the bath bomb into the tub, watching the first bits of fizz break out over its surface.

‘Ooh, pretty,’ Crowley reached out for it, but paused when he heard the angel’s sharp intake of breath at the action. He smiled and turned back to him. ‘When you’re ready angel. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Nothing can hurt me when you’re around, right?’

Aziraphale was about to shrug, but was understandably quite distracted when Crowley’s lips were suddenly covering his own, an insistent tongue demanding entry into his mouth. He let it in, entranced by sheer sensation, feeling every inch of their skin that pressed together, unencumbered by their inconsiderate clothes. This kiss was shorter than the last, but considerably less chaste. Aziraphale felt as though an electrical current were zapping through his body when Crowley pulled away, a wicked grin on his face. He reached up with one hand, flicking his fingers in the angel’s direction, small droplets of scented water landing on his face.

‘See? I touched the water. I’m still here,’ he kissed a drop away from Aziraphale’s nose. ‘Do you think we can get in? I like the smell of that fizzy thing. I want to smell delicious. Maybe you’ll eat me up after.’

Aziraphale nodded and stepped over the edge of the tub, sinking into the steaming water with a relieved sigh. After a moment, he nodded up at Crowley, who hurriedly clambered in after him. Aziraphale let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding when Crowley shifted closer to him, pulling him into his arms, still there and decidedly _not_ killed by the bathwater.

‘This is nice,’ Crowley hummed against Aziraphale’s temple, settling the _finally_ relaxing angel against his chest. ‘I can see why you like these things so much. It’s warm, it smells nice, you’re here.’

‘Mm, yes, having you here does make this bath a good deal more enjoyable,’ Aziraphale closed his eyes, simply letting the steam waft the soothing scents over him, and letting Crowley’s gentle embrace soothe him further. He let out a long, contented sigh. ‘Crowley, _darling_. Thank you for this. Thank you for having the patience to see me through this, even while I was being completely ridiculous. I don’t think I can ever say thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.’

‘There’s no need for thanks, angel,’ Crowley kissed his temple, smiling as the angel relaxed further against him. ‘But, well, I won’t say no if you decide to get a little creative later in expressing some gratitude.’

Aziraphale laughed, honestly a little surprised at being able to laugh after the heart and gut-wrenching fear from earlier. He tugged the demon’s arms more tightly around himself, holding them in place with soft hands. ‘I’d like that, dear. I think I’d like it a lot, actually.’

‘Hm, me too. But later. After. First, just sit here with me and let me wash all your fears , all your troubles away.’


End file.
